


Build Your Wings and Fly, Love

by dreamsweetmydear



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e09 Lady of the Lake, F/M, I'm Sorry, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Underage, OTP Feels, Past Drug Use, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Recovery, episode: s03e13 The Coming of Arthur Part II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsweetmydear/pseuds/dreamsweetmydear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another time and place, Merlin and Freya were going to look after each other, but their love story ended in tragedy. Now they can finally keep their promises the way they meant to all those years ago.</p><p>OR</p><p>Modern AU Freylin in which Merlin is working on his Ph. D., Freya works in a bookshop, both of them have suffered badly at the hands of others, and how they ultimately help each other in dealing with their individual issues. Also includes a side of Supportive!Arthur, Supportive!Gwen, and Supportive!Badass!Morgana in the roles of the nosy friends who are far too interested in Merlin's love life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Finding Merlin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/690194) by [kriadydragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriadydragon/pseuds/kriadydragon). 



> I’ve been working on this for months and months now. It has been a labor of love, and the style (that is, dreams of the past vs. current events) was inspired by Stealth Dragon/kriadydragon’s “Finding Merlin.” You should seriously go find that story and read it if you haven’t.
> 
> Many, MANY thanks go to Oz (CaptainOzone) and EM (ExcaliburMaiden) at The Heart of Camelot for their wonderful beta-work. Gorgeous cover art also by EM.
> 
> Please be warned, this story has earned its M rating. Not for smut, but for the content. I’ve done by best to handle these issues tastefully and respectfully without too many unnecessary details, but please heed the warnings. If this isn’t the kind of thing you feel comfortable reading, turn back now.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy, and leave feedback. I would love to know what you think.

-  
  
 _“Love is how you earn your wings.” – Karen Goldman_  
  
-  
  
 _Chapter 1_  
  
-

 

When Merlin sees her the first time, it’s at the bookshop near his flat, after he—in a fit of awkward clumsiness on his part—stumbles forward and knocks the books she is holding from her hands.  
  
“Sorry, I—” he begins to apologize sheepishly, his eyes on the books he is picking up for her, when he finally glances up into her face and is struck dumb.  
  
Large brown eyes look back at him from a face framed by nearly black curls.  
  
He straightens up, his fingers tightening a bit nervously on the stack of books in his hands. Her body is angled toward the bookcase next to them, and he recognizes the maroon vest that she wears as part of the bookshop’s employee uniform. Behind her is a cart full of books, freshly tagged for sale.  
  
“Sorry,” he breathes out. “I…wasn’t looking where I was going.”  
  
Her lips twitch into a tiny smile before her cheeks flush, and she turns her face resolutely to the bookshelf she was arranging.  
  
“It’s all right,” she murmurs aloud. Merlin’s brain is too busy shorting out at the sight of her blush.  
  
All he can think is that she’s beautiful.  
  
“Um, here,” he says, feeling suddenly like a teenager again as he holds out the stack of books to her. Fitting, considering they’re in the young adult fiction section.  
  
She takes the stack from him and begins to arrange the books. He’s about to ask her name when he hears Arthur calling him from the next aisle. Merlin can hear the whine in his voice that says he’s got about five seconds before Arthur throws a tantrum because he’s bored.  
  
“You should go,” she says quietly, drawing his attention back to her. “Your friend sounds like he’s in a hurry.”  
  
“Who, Arthur? Oh no, he’s always like that,” Merlin says with a grin.  
  
” _MERLIN!_ ” Merlin winces slightly at the sharpness of Arthur’s voice.  
  
He doesn’t mind though because the girl in front of him is beginning to smile a little in amusement.  
  
“It was nice meeting you, Merlin,” she says and leaves him standing in the aisle as she pushes her book cart away.  
  
As she turns away, Merlin catches a glimpse of her name tag.  
  
“Likewise…Freya,” he says and turns to head back to Arthur and his hunt for the perfect gift for Gwen.

 

Xxx  
  
He dreams of her for the first time that night.  
  
She is dressed in rags, her face is smudged with dirt.  
  
Her hands clutch metal bars, shackles wrap tightly around her wrists.  
  
And her eyes are wide, terrified and pleading for help.  
  
He knows immediately that he will do anything for her.  
  
Xxx  


  
When Merlin sits in front of the blank canvas for his next art project—he’s taking a painting class to de-stress from the pressures and frustrations of studying for his doctorate—all he can think of is Freya.  
  
What he ends up starting is something that is most definitely not Freya, his pencil sketching out a scene from a dream of his that features a young man holding up a sword in a sunlit glade.  
  
It’s as he is working on some of the lines for the scenery that his phone beeps at him with a text from Gwen.  
  
 _Going to the pub with Arthur and the others. Coming?_  
  
He takes a glance at his art project, figures it’ll still be here when he gets back with the others, and sends Gwen an affirmative text.  
  
He’s not expecting to see Freya again as he heads out to meet his friends.  
  
Merlin sees her locking up the bookshop with a couple of other workers as he passes the window with a display of new bestsellers.  
  
Her head is bowed as she straightens up some books and audiobook packages on a nearby table, and Merlin can’t help but think she looks sad, her face hidden behind her long hair, her hands moving without fervor or joy, just moving.  
  
As he watches her, Merlin remembers the small smiles she gave him when they first met, and he desperately wants to see those smiles again.  
  
So he takes a chance and knocks on the window. He feels guilty when she startles as she looks up, dropping the books she’s holding.  
  
Merlin waves through the window. She smiles at him.  
  
Seeing her smile makes him feel lighter, and he takes a chance.  
  
“Want to get a cup of coffee?” he asks through the window, hoping she’ll understand his glass-muffled words.  
  
Merlin can’t help but think she looks kind of adorable when her brow crinkles as she’s trying to decipher his invitation. He watches as she glances at her watch to check the time, then nods back at him with a shy smile and holds up her hand, all five fingers splayed.  
  
He nods, and while he walks to the entrance to wait for Freya, he shoots Gwen a text. _Actually, I’ve got plans. You guys go ahead without me. I’ll see you at home._  
  
He gets an answering text from Gwen’s number, but it is clearly written by Arthur. _Merlin has plans? Who is she?_  
  
He chuckles. _I’ll tell you later._  
  
The next text is from Morgana. _You’d better!_  
  
Merlin shakes his head and pockets his phone, looking up just in time to see Freya coming out of the door of the shop.  
  
“Hi,” she says.  
  
“Hi,” he says back. “Um, there’s a nice coffee shop just around the corner that’s open late. Their desserts are really good.”  
  
“That sounds…really nice, actually,” she answers, and they start walking to the coffee shop.  
  
They walk in silence, hands in pockets, elbows bumping occasionally, and Merlin steals little glances at Freya as they pass the art supply store where he likes to shop. It’s as they come to the entrance of the coffee shop that he catches Freya looking at him, too, and he can’t help but duck his head a bit to hide his grin.  
  
“Hey, Merlin,” a young man with dark hair and a hoarse baritone behind the dessert display calls out to him.  
  
“Hey, Will,” Merlin calls back before looking back at Freya. “Where do you want to sit?”  
  
“How about…there?” Merlin looks to see where Freya is pointing, finding a small table with a couple of comfortable armchairs in a corner by the window.  
  
“Sure,” he says with a grin and leads her to the table.  
  
“My lady,” he says, pulling her chair out with a flourish. She smiles at him and sits down.  
  
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asks her after he’s sat down and they’ve ordered coffee and a couple slices of strawberry cheesecake.  
  
She nods. “What about you? Have you been here long?”  
  
So he tells her how he’s a student at the university, trying to get his doctorate in history. He tells her how he lives with his three best friends: Gwen, a med student who he’s known since his first year of university; Arthur, who was his roommate during his second year of university and is now like the brother he never had; and Morgana, Arthur’s half-sister, who he met through his history classes and Gwen.  
  
Merlin sees Freya smiling at him, taking in the stories he tells her about meeting his friends, about his life as a doctoral student.  
  
He stays away from saying much about where he’s from, only that he’s got a single mum and no dad.  
  
After telling her his severely abbreviated life story, Merlin finally asks Freya, “What about you? How did you end up here?”  
  
“Oh, there’s really nothing to tell about me,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her coffee. “I just needed to get away from where I was. But the place where I grew up, oh…”  
  
Merlin finds himself smiling along with her as her voice and eyes become wistful and happy. “I used to run around in the fields during spring and summer, picking wildflowers and strawberries, but the best part, the absolute best, was the lake. It was beautiful and clear, and it almost seemed like a portal to another world the way it reflected the mountains and the sky…”  
  
“It sounds like heaven,” he says, picturing a little Freya running free near a glittering lake, wildflowers caught in her dark hair.  
  
“It was,” she answers, and he notices her smile turns sad again.  
  
Merlin doesn’t like it when she smiles like that; it’s like she’s lost something precious and can never get it back.  
  
“So what do you like to do for fun?” he asks quickly, trying to draw her thoughts to something happier again.  
  
They continue to talk long into the night, until Freya glances at her watch again. “Oh…it’s a lot later than I realized…”  
  
“I can walk you home,” Merlin offers. “You shouldn’t be out alone this late at night.”  
  
“Thank you,” she says, “but I don’t live in this neighborhood. I usually take the bus here.”  
  
“Oh.” He wonders what to do. Would it be too forward of him to offer to ride the bus with her? He’d offer her a ride, but he doesn’t drive. Then he has an idea.  
  
“You could crash at my place. My friends won’t mind. And you can borrow something to wear from Gwen or Morgana.”  
  
Freya shakes her head. “No, I can’t.”  
  
Merlin notices how tense her shoulders have become at his suggestion and decides not to push it.  
  
“All right. Oh, I know. We can get you a taxi.”  
  
Freya smiles, but Merlin notices her shoulders are still a little tense. “If you want, I can ride with you.”  
  
He smiles when he sees the tension leave her completely, and she nods. “Okay.”  
  
So they get a cab after walking a couple more blocks to a more lively area of the neighborhood.  
  
They pull up to a slightly run-down apartment building in another neighborhood a few miles away. Down the street, Merlin hears the telltale tinkle of breaking glass and a barking dog. In the mouth of the nearby alley, he can see the lump of a homeless person sleeping on a makeshift bed of old newspapers.  
  
It is very much like where he grew up.  
  
“Can I walk you to your door?” he asks her after telling the cabbie to wait a few minutes. Freya smiles at him and nods before leading him up the steps of her building’s stoop.  
  
“I had a really good time,” she says as she digs through her bag for her keys.  
  
“I’m glad, and so did I,” Merlin says. “Maybe we can do this again?”  
  
“Yeah,” she says and unlocks the door to her building, but lingers in the doorway, digging in her bag again. Merlin watches her curiously as she pulls out a small notepad and a pen and quickly writes something down before ripping the small page out and handing it to him. “Good night, Merlin.”  
  
He folds the little piece of paper into his pocket. “You too,” he murmurs, looking deeply into her eyes for a moment, searching for a sign of rejection, and leans forward and kisses her softly—a chaste press of his lips to hers, with an answering push of hers to his.  
  
She blushes when he pulls away, but her eyes are wide in dazed surprise, and there’s a little smile on her lips as she quickly ducks into her doorway.  
  
Merlin bows his head, and hiding a happy grin, gets back into the cab to go home.  
  
On the way, he pulls out the piece of paper Freya gave him, finding a mobile number and a single sentence: “I’ve never met anyone like you.”  
  
He texts her immediately. _I’ve never met anyone like you, either._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for Freya's back story. You may want tissues.

-  
  
 _Chapter 2_  
  
-

 

xxx  
  
He dreams of Freya, asleep and wrapped in a worn, brown jacket.  
  
He dreams of her wolfing down food like someone deprived.  
  
He dreams of her hiding tears, afraid of being forgotten.  
  
He dreams of a promise.  
  
 _I’m going to look after you._  
  
xxx

   
  
It is after two months and several dates and an endless amount of phone calls and texts that Merlin manages to convince Freya to come over.  
  
Naturally, he owes Gwen his thanks for it.  
  
“We should double this Friday. You and I can cook,” Gwen suggests to him one day over lunch.  
  
“I’ll finally have an excuse to try that cheesecake recipe,” Merlin says, liking the idea. “Okay then. Let me ask Freya and see what she says.”  
  
He hasn’t said anything, but he worries about his girlfriend a lot.  
  
Something terrible happened to her before they crossed paths, terrible enough to make her leave wherever she was and come here and live in that neighborhood that’s been getting seedier by the week.  
  
He worries because he can tell she’s running from something that tore her apart. Merlin knows this because he knows what it’s like to be torn apart from the inside out and have nowhere to run. He was stuck like that for a long, long time before his mother reached out to his great-uncle, who gave him a chance when he desperately needed one, and before he got into university and met Gwen and Arthur and Morgana.  
  
But he doesn’t like to think about that time, and Merlin knows Freya doesn’t like thinking about those things either, so he makes it a point to keep her happy and smiling by being clumsy and making her smile or laugh and learning how to make strawberry cheesecake.  
  
And Merlin knows it’s worth it because when he brings dessert out the night of their double date with Arthur and Gwen, Freya’s eyes widen in wonder and a huge smile spreads across her face.  
  
“Did you make that yourself?” she asks.  
  
“Merlin was slaving away over it all day yesterday,” Gwen confirms on his behalf, and Merlin beams at the pride he hears in her voice.  
  
“I could hear him banging around in the kitchen all afternoon with the mixer and whatnot. I’ll admit, he’s half-decent in the kitchen,” Arthur adds. “Whatever you do, Freya, don’t ever let him fix anything. He’s rubbish when it comes to actually repairing something.”  
  
“It’s not my fault Gwen’s the better baker of the two of us,” Merlin jibes back. “Some of us have to work harder to make sure our desserts turn out right. And that was _one time_ , you clot!”  
  
“It was the only time that mattered!” Arthur snipes at Merlin.  
  
“And yet, you still come to _me_ first when you mess up your computer. I warned you beforehand that I’m better with programs than the actual hardware!” Merlin tosses back.  
  
“Boys, _behave_ ,” Gwen gently chides them as she begins to cut the cheesecake, and Merlin gives her sheepish grin while Arthur pouts a bit at his girlfriend.   
  
“Well, I think this cheesecake looks delicious. Thank you,” Freya says as she takes a slice that Gwen has plated for her.  
  
“I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” Arthur adds on. “Merlin, if I die from eating this, I’m going to come back and haunt you.”  
  
Merlin rolls his eyes. “No faith. None whatsoever!” he grumbles to Freya.  
  
“Arthur, you don’t have to worry,” Freya says after swallowing her bite of cheesecake, smiling at Merlin. “It’s really very good. I can’t believe this is your first time making this.”  
  
Merlin manages to bow dramatically to Freya while still in his seat. “I’m pleased that it pleases you, my lady.”  
  
Arthur snorts at Merlin’s antics, Gwen shakes her head with a chuckle, and Freya giggles at him.   
  
As Merlin takes a bite of his confection, he muses happily that the night has been quite fun and can’t help but be pleased that Freya has gotten along so well with Gwen and Arthur. While the girls have similar taste in various things, Arthur seems to like using Freya’s presence to give Merlin even more grief.   
  
Merlin’s happy that Freya takes the teasing so good-naturedly. It raises his opinion of her even more, considering how many people get so frustrated with Arthur when he’s being a prat.  
  
“We should get going,” Arthur tells Gwen during a lull in conversation after dessert. “We’re going to miss our show otherwise.”  
  
“Oh right,” Gwen murmurs and gets up from the table. “It was lovely to finally meet you Freya. I’m glad Merlin found someone like you.”  
  
Freya smiles back. “It was good meeting you too. I’ll let you know about lunch next week after I check my shift schedule at the bookshop.”   
  
“Sure.”  
  
“I’m trusting you to keep him out of trouble, Freya,” Arthur says to her as he pushes his chair in. “If he does anything stupid, you’ve got my permission to smack him as much as you like.” Freya just chuckles and nods back.  
  
“Oi! Stop corrupting my girlfriend!” Merlin squawks at Arthur with little heat, and starts to physically push Arthur out of the dining area from behind. “Go bother someone else for a change!”  
  
“You still love me, Merlin! Bye Freya!” Arthur calls as he and Gwen hurry out of door and leave for the rest of their evening together. Merlin just shakes his head. He can hear Gwen laughing at his and Arthur’s antics as the door shuts behind them.  
  
Merlin glances at Freya after the door closes. “So…”  
  
Freya smiles at him shyly. “So…?”  
  
He grins. “Let’s clean this up, yeah?”  
  
Freya nods and starts to help him gather the dishes.  
  
They clean in a comfortable silence, only really speaking when Freya asks where something should go or when Merlin directs her around the kitchen.  
  
Once the kitchen is spotless, Merlin comes up behind his girlfriend and wraps his arms around her from behind. He relishes in the feel of her leaning into him.  
  
“This was really nice,” she murmurs.  
  
“I’m glad you had fun,” he says and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Now c’mon. I want to show you something.”  
  
He leads her to his room, to the easel sitting in the corner by the window, and the recently finished painting of the man with the sword.  
  
“Wow,” Freya breathes out, reaching out a finger to gently trace the brush strokes that make up the sword. “This is lovely.”  
  
“Thank you,” Merlin says, happy she likes his painting.  
  
“He looks like Arthur,” Freya says, pointing to the man.  
  
“Ah, yeah. That wasn’t intentional. I actually based the painting on a dream I had with Arthur in it,” Merlin explained.   
  
Freya looked back at him quizzically. “You dreamed about Arthur holding a sword up to the sky?”   
  
Merlin shrugged. “I’ve dreamed about all of my friends. A lot of them were warriors of some sort. Gwen was a servant or a maid a few times and a queen in a few others. Morgana was some sort of noblewoman a few times and a wicked witch who wore a lot of black. She laughed when I told her that. She’s really quite nice, actually. It’s too bad you couldn’t meet her tonight, but she’s gone to France for a conference.”  
  
“Your dreams sound so vivid,” Freya says.   
  
Merlin shrugged again. “I guess. I’ve always dreamed vividly though. It’s what got me into art. It’s like my dreams want to tell a story, but the parts of the story are out of order.”   
  
There’s a beat of silence before Freya shyly asks, “Have you ever dreamed of me?”  
  
Merlin swallows and nods. “And for some reason, you’re the only one I can’t seem to paint,” he whispers.   
  
She looks at him in surprise at his confession.  
  
“For some reason,” he goes on, walking slowly towards her, “whenever I dream of you, you’re dressed in rags and covered in dirt, and I can’t help thinking you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, but my heart breaks too because I can’t bear to see you like that.”   
  
Merlin steps even closer to her, reaching a hand up to cup Freya’s cheek. “You’re scared and hurting. And all I want is to keep you safe, see you smile.” Funny how he can apply that sentiment to his dreams and his reality.  
  
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into an embrace. He doesn’t know how to react to how stiff Freya is.  
  
“I dream that I make you a promise to look after you.”  
  
Freya remains silent to his words and wooden in his arms. Merlin’s worry over her returns tenfold, especially because he’s sure that he’s scared her, and that’s not what he wants to do at all.  
  
Merlin curses at himself silently. He needs to back off, give her space to process what he’s just told her, because the dreams he has of her can’t be easy to digest. They aren’t happy dreams, and what girl in her right mind wants to hear that her boyfriend dreams about her being sad and in pain?   
  
But now that he’s started talking, he can’t seem to stop. It’s like he needs her to hear him out, just this once.  
  
“I worry about you, Freya. I can tell that someone hurt you badly, and you’re running because of it. I know something terrible happened to you in the way you stiffen sometimes at the mention of meeting strangers and the way you try to hide being scared of going home alone too late because of the creeps on the street. And every now and then, you drift away, lost in your head somewhere. I know because you flinch when you come out of it, and you get startled a lot—Freya?”   
  
He stops talking abruptly, becoming aware of the way his girlfriend has buried her face in his chest, her arms wound tightly around his torso, and a growing damp patch on his shirt. Her body is still stiff, but he realizes now that she’s trying to hide the tremble of her limbs as she cries, her fists tight in an iron grip on the back of his shirt.   
  
Merlin’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to scare her or hurt her anymore than he already has (Arthur’s right—he really is hopeless with women…).  
  
Taking a breath, Merlin forces himself to relax and locks on to a memory of something his mum used to do to soothe him when he was upset as a child. He reaches one hand up and, wrapping the other arm more firmly around her, begins gently combing his fingers through her hair.   
  
When Freya begins to relax in his embrace, Merlin carefully maneuvers them to curl up on his bed, with him sitting up against the headboard and Freya curled and tucked into his side.  
  
He never lets go of his hold on her and keeps finger-combing her dark curls. Merlin doesn’t realize he had been singing softly as well until Freya’s tears reduce to sniffles and her head is pillowed languidly against his chest, right over his heart.  
  
“You sing well,” she whispers, breaking his mental mantra of take care of Freya and bringing his voice to his ears with an abrupt hitch in pitch that breaks the song completely.   
  
He feels the blush immediately and ducks his gaze to his right in embarrassment but is rewarded when he hears his girlfriend give a giggle still stained with the last vestige of tears.  
  
Shaking his head to get rid of his own ridiculousness, Merlin refocuses on Freya, taking in her appearance in the warm lights of his room. Her face is blotchy from crying, her eyes puffy and red and drooping with the exhaustion that comes with that sort of emotional release.  
  
Slightly readjusting his position so that his left arm is wrapped snugly around her back, the fingers of his hand toying with her dark brown curls, Merlin tilts a bit to his left side to wrap his right arm around her as well, his hand running soothing laps up and down her back.  
  
He smiles when he feels her burrow even closer to him.  
  
They remain silent for a long time, Merlin taking in the sounds of their breathing in the quiet, his head tilted back against his headboard, focusing on Freya’s presence against him. Her hand is fisted in his shirt again, this time the front, and he covers her small fist with his hand, squeezing gently.  
  
He doesn’t push her for answers, though he desperately wants them. He wants to hide her away from the world and keep her safe so that no one can ever hurt her again because seeing her like this—this hollowed out shell of herself—is breaking his heart, and it feels like his dreams of her are blending with reality.  
  
“You’ll hate me if I tell you what I’ve done,” she whispers into the hush that has settled over his room.  
  
He looks down at her then, meeting fearful and despondent brown eyes. He smiles slightly and shakes his head no. He could never hate her.  
  
“I’m a—” and her mouth clamps shut, and Merlin sees the blush on her cheeks and the shame that crumples her face.   
  
Merlin tightens his grip on her hand, hoping to offer strength to get her story out.  
  
He watches as she swallows hard and audibly and takes a shaky breath to start again.   
  
“You can’t always trust people,” she begins again, a broken smile twitching her lips for a moment. Merlin just nods; he knows that feeling well.  
  
He watches her close her eyes tightly, feels her body stiffen against him, and her breathing is shaky when she starts to speak again. She tells him about a man who was meant to take care of her, nights and days spent living in fear of him, his hands, his anger, and his lust. Her words paint a picture in Merlin’s imagination—a dimly-lit ramshackle house, creaky stairs, a small room sparsely furnished and decorated with cobwebs and grime hidden away under the staircase, and a young, hurt Freya curled in a corner in tears. She tells him of running away, and having no one to turn to, and being found by a creep named Haelig who puts her to work with threats if she wants to live. She speaks of a client who tried to hurt her, and how she accidentally hurt him. It got her in trouble, but her getting in trouble got Haelig in trouble, and suddenly, she wasn’t in trouble anymore.   
  
But it didn’t matter that Freya didn’t have to live like that anymore. The damage has been done, and Merlin can see it and hear it. There is shame in her face, and self-hate in her voice. In trying to stay alive, Freya had parts of herself torn away against her will.  
  
Merlin wants to kill Haelig, find him and castrate him and drag him through all the levels of hell. The same goes for Freya’s should-have-been guardian.   
  
“I’m a—“ Freya’s voice is halting, thick with tears and pain and self-hate “—a whore.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Merlin’s response is instinctive and full of righteous fury. “No, you’re not. You’re brave and sweet and good. You are not what they tried to make you. You did what you did to stay alive. And now you’re here, and making a life for yourself.”  
  
He stops talking for a minute, gathering his thoughts. “You should be proud of yourself, Freya. You’ve started over, and you’ve done it all on your own.”  
  
Freya’s confession has drudged Merlin’s memories to the forefront. They are his monsters in the dark, clawed fingers dragging his mind back into how he was before he met Gaius—drowning in the shame of being manipulated, the pain of being used so much he felt ragged, the fear of what would happen to his mother if he told, and the impending self-destructive explosion of his life fueled by the lure of something that could put his mind at ease.  
  
Merlin hasn’t talked to Gwen, Arthur, and Morgana about Kanen and Jarl and Cenred and how they almost destroyed him. The most they know is that his life wasn’t the best growing up. He isn’t planning to tell them exactly how bad it was anytime soon, if ever.  
  
But thinking all of that, Merlin knows what to say to Freya now.  
  
Idly running his fingers through her hair again, he leans forward and drops a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. When he pulls away, Freya tilts her face slightly towards him, a questioning look on her face.  
  
“I know what it’s like to keep secrets,” he whispers. “I also know how hard it is to share them. Thank you for sharing yours with me.”  
  
She smiles at him softly, and Merlin is so lost in that smile that he startles a bit when he feels her fingertips gently brushing away tears from his cheeks.  
  
He blinks owlishly, and hastily rubs the sleeve end of his purple sweater across his eyes before looking back at her with lightly flushed cheeks and an embarrassed smile.  
  
“Thank you for listening,” she murmurs to him. Freya then snuggles closer to Merlin again and rests her head over his heart once more.  
  
“Sleep,” he coaxes her gently, running his fingers through her hair again. She mumbles something that sounds like “just for a little while” and relaxes as her breathing quickly becomes even and deep.  
  
Merlin’s eyes droop shut soon after.


	3. Chapter 3

 

-

_Chapter 3_

-

 

  
xxx

He sets her pyre burning brightly on the water.

Merlin’s heart is torn to shreds.

In spite of everything, he still loves her, and he always will.

But he can’t deny that, by killing her, Arthur gave her what he could not.

Freedom.

xxx

 

  
Things have been better since that late night Friday confessional.

Merlin has helped Freya find a support group to go to once a week near the university. He’s also helped her find a therapist that his great uncle referred him to—a kind woman named Alice.

Nowadays, Freya can be found hanging around their flat when she’s not working, either spending time with him or the girls. Besides regular lunches or dinners or shopping trips, the three of them have joined a self-defense class together. Merlin doesn’t know what they have discussed on their “girls’ nights” when they kick Merlin and Arthur out of the flat, but Freya has mentioned that they are very accepting and that having them in her life is one of the best things that’s happened to her in a long, long time.

Merlin is happy to see she’s settling into his life so well, all the while rebuilding herself.

He still hasn’t told her about his own battles, and he can see that Freya has questions for him—how he knows what sort of support she needs, how he’s able to adapt when she’s having a bad day, how he knows how to bring her out of a flashback gently, how he’s aware of what makes her uncomfortable without even having to ask.

But he’s not ready to talk about it, and she seems to know that, and he appreciates her even more for letting him keep that part of himself.

Things have been good.

He hopes that they continue to get even better.

Content with how his life is going for now, Merlin is neck-deep in bestiaries on supposedly magical creatures and studying old manuscripts in the library for a section of his dissertation on the presence of the occult and its related culture in pre-medieval and medieval England. He’s busily examining a drawing of a giant winged panther that reminds him of one of his recent dreams when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Yeah?” he answers, distracted by the Old English description beneath the image, translating in his head as he reads.

“Merlin, can you come home?” Morgana sounds apologetic and worried, and it immediately catches his attention.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you okay?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Freya seems a bit shaken, though.”

Merlin straightens in his seat. “Freya?”

“just come home Merlin. Please. She needs you, I think.”

He nods and begins packing up his laptop and papers, adding the book with the image of the flying panther to the pile of things to go into his bag. “Right, okay. Yeah. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

They are the longest fifteen minutes of his life, and it’s enough time for everything from Freya dying (completely illogical) to Freya being pregnant (also not logical considering they haven’t reached that point yet) to Freya deciding to break up with him (possible, though he seriously hopes not) to shoot through his mind.

And then, suddenly, he’s home, and Morgana is opening the door before he can even finish unlocking it, and is pulling him inside and pushing him toward the living room where he sees Freya.

There is a bruise on her cheek and she is wrapped in his favorite blanket—one his mother made and sent for him when he was starting university—on the end of the couch by the window. The nails on her right hand are chipped, and the skin covering her knuckles is broken and bruised as well but no longer bleeding.

She’s staring out the window, deeply lost in thought.

“Freya?” Merlin asks to get her attention, approaching her from the front of the coffee table, not wanting to startle her.

She jerks slightly anyway, and looks up at him with wide, unreadable brown eyes.

Merlin sits on the coffee table across from her, gingerly taking her hands in his, having to fight with himself a bit to not rub circles into her skin for fear of hurting her knuckles more.

“What happened?” he whispers, his gaze skipping between the bruise on her cheek and her eyes.

“I got mugged,” she murmurs back, “on my way to work, near where I transfer buses. He grabbed me from behind, and he had a knife. I headbutted him.” She lets out a shaky laugh.

“He loosened his grip on me, but he grabbed the chain that I use to clip my wallet to my belt and pulled on it. It broke the chain,” she says, and pulls out the remainder of the chain from within the folds of the blanket. Merlin takes the chain from her hand, fingering it carefully before setting it down on the coffee table and turning his attention back to her.

“What happened after that?” he asks softly, waiting for her to gather her thoughts again.

“When I tried to catch my balance I stumbled forward, and I managed to step on his foot with the heel of my shoe, which made him mad. He yelled and came at me again, but this time I elbowed him in the gut so I could turn around and face him. He dropped the knife—didn’t go down though—and he came at me again, with a punch. He got me, but I moved my head when I saw it coming so he got my cheek instead of my eye.” She stops to trace the bruise on her cheek with her index finger, Merlin’s eyes following the movement intently. His hands clench around hers in a flash of anger before loosening their grip again.

“Before he could come at me again, I screamed, and punched him as hard as I could, in the nose. I think I broke it, because there was blood dripping down his shirt. Then I kicked him in the crotch and ran like hell and got on the next bus that I saw.” She laughs hysterically again, and Merlin squeezes her hands to comfort her. “I think I scared the driver—he didn’t bother me about not paying the fare.”

She’s still laughing madly, and Merlin smiles slightly in pride, but feels his anger still burning hotly in his veins and a heavy sense of guilt settling in his stomach. Things like this aren’t supposed to keep happening to her. If only he could have been with her. He isn’t the best fighter, and he is more than thankful for the self-defense classes Freya and the girls are taking, but at least if he’d been there she wouldn’t have been alone.

“I got attacked today, and I was able to fight back. And I won! I should be happy. I’m alive, and mostly okay. I have bruises and scratches and no wallet and a broken phone thanks to my mugger, but that’s it.”

Any trace of a smile slips away as he listens to her, his anger and guilt mounting, and he gently brushes a kiss to her injured knuckles.

“But you know, there’s something I don’t understand. Why…why do people keep trying to hurt me, Merlin? What have I done to them?”

Her shuddering breath hitches, and Merlin watches helplessly as she begins to cry. “Why do people keep trying to hurt me?”

Merlin gathers Freya into his arms and settles himself on the couch, a bundle of blanket-wrapped Freya in his lap. He holds her close and brushes a kiss to her temple.

“The thing I’ve learned,” he whispers sadly, “is that no matter how much better we get, monsters don’t go away. We may have good people with us now and we may have the strength now to deal with bad people, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t still bad people out there, and that doesn’t mean we’re immune to them either. As much as we might like to believe it, we’re not invincible.”

He holds her closer. “I’m sorry that creep attacked you. I’m sorry you were attacked again. It isn’t fair, and it’s wrong. You’ve got every right to be able to walk down the street and live your life in peace, without the fear of being hurt. But you know what?” He pauses to let pride seep into his voice before speaking again, “You’re a brave, fierce woman. You just came out of a fight that could have seen you severely injured or worse, and you won. You did that, Freya, and no one else, and I am so, so proud of you. Don’t let him take that from you. Don’t let him and others like him stop you from becoming the sort of person you want to be.”

Freya sniffs and looks up at him, a smile starting to stretch across her face.

There’s a brightness in her eyes that was missing earlier, and Merlin is happy to see it back.

“I love you,” he says fervently, letting the sentiment convey everything else he wants to say but can’t quite verbalize. He’s about to kiss her when Freya gives him a full-blown grin and fiercely kisses him instead, the motion causing him to fall into the back of the sofa. Not that he minds, considering the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

“Oi! We’ve got our own rooms for a reason, Merlin!” Arthur’s voice rings out, causing them to break apart for air and look over at Morgana, who has come into the living room while holding a mug and toying with the string of a teabag, and Arthur, who’s apparently just come home from work.

Merlin looks back at Freya and grins, taking in her dancing eyes and soft smile, while pointing lazily to the adjacent armchair that Arthur frequently uses. “You’re one to talk, Arthur, considering how many times I’ve come across you and Gwen on that chair there.”

“You’ve got to admit he’s got a point, brother dear,” Morgana chimes in, and Merlin can hear her smirk, which causes Arthur to splutter indignantly and Merlin and Freya to laugh at their friend’s expense.

A phone ringing from one of the bedrooms draws Merlin’s roommates away, but Merlin refuses to take his eyes off of his girlfriend. He is leaning forward to kiss Freya again when Arthur’s shout breaks Merlin’s concentration.

“ _WHAT?_ BUT SHE SIGNED A CONTRACT WITH US! SHE CAN’T JUST— _WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN A SCHEDULING ERROR?_ ” Merlin glances up at Freya before looking in the direction of the hallway where Arthur and his rooms are located. Whatever was going on didn’t sound good at all. “Are you telling me I don’t have a model because _YOU_ screwed up?”

There are a couple minutes of silence from Arthur as Freya and Merlin eavesdrop in curiosity. They both wince when Arthur starts yelling again. “Find someone else? _Find someone else?_ WHERE THE _HELL_ AM I--? Hello? _Hello?_ ”

Merlin hears Arthur’s door slam, and the thundering of footsteps in the hallway. “Here he comes. Brace yourself!” he jokingly tells Freya, who snickers and shakes her head in response.

“ _THAT WEASEL JUST HUNG UP ON ME!_ ” Arthur yells as he storms back into the living room, crushing his mobile in his hand and throwing himself into the armchair before jumping back up to pace frantically back and forth. “It’s five days before the shoot! Five days! How am I going to find a model in that amount of time? It took us over six weeks and more than 500 models to find Vivian! The product launch is in two weeks!”

Merlin is starting to get dizzy watching Arthur pace, and shakes his head a bit to clear it.

Morgana, hearing Arthur’s commotion, has also come back into the room. She’s wearing her lab coat, but still has an earring in her left earlobe as she gets ready for an evening shift at work. Glancing at Merlin, she raises an eyebrow. Merlin just shakes his head at her and mouths, “Vivian quit,” while shifting as Freya slides off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. He then settles his arm around her shoulders. Nodding with a roll of her eyes, Morgana disappears back into her room.

“What’s going on?” Freya whispers. She’s trying not to show it, but Arthur’s outburst is scaring her, and Merlin rubs her arm soothingly to let her know everything’s all right.

“Arthur does marketing for his mum Ygraine’s design house. They’re getting ready to launch this season’s evening wear, but from what I gather, they just lost their model,” Merlin explains.

“Ygraine? As in Ygraine _du Bois_? _She’s Arthur’s mum?_ ” Freya squeaks out, eyes wide in amazement. Merlin nods in confirmation.

“Wait!” Merlin returns to watching Arthur as he stops mid-pace, eyes wide with an idea. “MORGANA!”

Merlin stifles a laugh while Freya looks at him quizzically. Merlin winks back at Freya and puts a finger to his lips, telling to her keep watching. He’s fairly certain he knows what Morgana is going to say.

“The answer is no, Arthur!” Morgana calls, and Merlin can hear her coming back to the living room.

“But—!”

“But nothing,” Morgana says firmly, and this time she is fully dressed for work, with no make-up or jewelry and her hair tied back into a sensible plait down her back. “I love fashion, I love your mum, and I love your mum’s fashion, but I’m not modeling for your mum’s design house.”

“But Morgana, I’m your brother. You can’t _not_ help me!” Arthur pleads with her. Merlin’s shoulders are shaking as he struggles to keep his laughter contained.

“Mmhmm. You are my _brother_. Therefore, I have every right not to help you, because you are _not_ my _boss_ ,” Morgana responds with a wicked grin. “Now, I am going to work, because this week I have the last shift, and there is an experiment running that has my name on it that will one day lead to me winning a Nobel Prize and having the rest of the world bow at my feet. Have a good evening, you three.”

Merlin watches Morgana stalk off, leaving a confused Arthur in her wake.

Unable to hold in his amusement anymore, Merlin laughs aloud uncontrollably, and tears trickle from his eyes in his mirth.

“Merlin,” Freya chides scoldingly, though she too is laughing.

“My sister just left me,” Arthur says, looking very much like a lost little boy.

“Yep, she did,” Merlin says, and continues to laugh.

Arthur groans in response and buries his face in his hands. “Oh shut up, Merlin.”

Merlin’s chuckles finally subside as Arthur drops into the armchair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Dammit, what am I going to _do_?”

“What about some of the other models you’d seen?” Merlin suggests. “I know Vivian is the one you wanted, but wouldn’t some of the others work?”

“No, none of them had quite what we were looking for.”

“Well, what are you looking for?”

“We wanted someone fresh faced, youthful. I dunno, the kind of girl who you could look at and give your heart to. A natural beauty, you know? Vivian’s personality left a lot to be desired, honestly, but she could do sweet better than any of the others we’d seen when we did test shots,” Arthur explains.

Merlin glances at Freya, who gives him a confused look. While they understood what Arthur was looking for, neither one of them knew what a test shot was and how that made a difference.

“I’d ask Elena, but as lovely and sweet as she is, she’s got the coordination of a newborn colt,” Arthur goes on, clearly not paying attention to his friends. “If only we could get someone like you, Freya. You’re perfect—you’re sweet, you’re beautiful, you’re graceful, and you’ve got a wonderful smile and a great personality.”

Merlin’s gaze snaps to Arthur as his friend realizes what he just said. “Oh.”

Merlin raises his eyebrow at his friend. He knows what’s coming. “Oh?”

Arthur looks back at him, and Merlin can see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he nods and starts to grin. “Oh- _ho_. Yes. _Yes_. That’s _it_.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says in warning.

“Oh Merlin, why the hell not? It’s a brilliant idea! She’s perfect for the job! And best of all, my mother will love her!”

“Wait, I missed something,” Freya says finally, looking between the two of them. “Did Arthur figure out what to do?”

“Yes!” Arthur exclaims.

Merlin shakes his head.

“Merlin?” Merlin sighs and looks at his girlfriend for a moment.

Brown eyes, warm and loving and lovely, look back at him. He glances at the bruise on her cheek, and down at her broken nails and bruised knuckles. He thinks of her just a few months ago, timid and hesitant but still so wonderful, and he can see how far she’s come in the last few months. She walks a little taller now, and smiles a little more easily, and laughs a little more openly.

He’s starting to see who Freya really is, who she is truly meant to be.

But she’s not there yet.

He bites his lip as he thinks. Maybe this could be good for her. Maybe this could give her something that he can’t give her himself.

Because Merlin knows that no matter how many times he tells her that he thinks she’s beautiful, she doesn’t quite believe him. Merlin knows that she has little love for her reflection and for whatever she has hidden behind her long sleeved tops.

He and the others are doing their best, but he doesn’t know how long it will take for Freya to learn to love herself too.

Maybe this experience could give her a little more strength to do it.

Merlin glances away from Freya’s gaze and meets Arthur’s wide, hopeful blue eyes. “Okay. But you’ve got to convince her first.”

“Convince who of what? Who are you two talking about?” Freya asks, and Merlin grins. His girlfriend really is just too cute when she’s confused.

“Freya, I’ve got a proposition for you,” Arthur says, taking her attention away from Merlin to him, only to freeze in confusion. “Wait, what happened? Who did that to you? Merlin, what happened to her?”

Merlin wants to roll his eyes at Arthur as he finally takes in the details he missed before. Oblivious idiot.

“Um, I-I was mugged on my way to work,” Freya says quietly, tucking further into Merlin’s side. Merlin responds by tightening the arm he has around her shoulders, and taking her uninjured hand in his and squeezing gently. “He took my wallet and broke my phone, but I managed to give him a broken nose and kick him where it hurts.”

Merlin drops a kiss to the top of her head, and a proud smile stretches across his face.

Arthur looks like he can’t decide between being impressed by Freya’s resilience and courage or incensed that no one protected her. Merlin watches as he shakes his head, letting the anger go.

“Well, all I can say is that you clearly fight better than your boyfriend. Well done.”

Merlin gives an indignant “Oi!” and shoots his friend a glare. “I could very well change my mind and say no again.”

“Yes, but then you wouldn’t be leaving the choice up to Freya, meaning we’d smack you twice—once from Freya for not letting her decide, and again from me because you’re being a jerk boyfriend. Actually, I don’t know why I even have to convince you in the first place!”

Merlin blushes at Arthur’s words. The blond prat has a point—he was being unfair to Freya earlier.

“Right. Sorry Freya,” he mumbles, feeling sheepish.

“Thank you Merlin, but I still don’t know what it is Arthur wants me to do.”

“I want you to become the headliner for my mother’s evening collection this season,” Arthur straightforwardly says to her. “You would be absolutely perfect for it for all the previously mentioned reasons, Freya—really you would! And you’ve got one thing that Vivian and the other models didn’t have.”

“What’s that?” Freya’s voice sounds slightly dazed to Merlin’s ears, and he wonders if she’s responding to the last comment or the concept as a whole of her as a model.

“You’re down-to-earth. You’re _real_ , Freya, in a way a lot of these other models aren’t. And we could really use that with this collection—“

“No, no you can’t be serious. Me? Have you met me? I can barely talk to new people! Arthur, I’d be absolute rubbish as a model!” Freya exclaims, shaking her head. “I’m not confident. I’m really not worth looking at. I don’t talk to anyone except you four. And there is…so much you don’t know about me.” Merlin bites his lip at Freya’s words, hearing the pain in her voice, because while he knows that Arthur is aware that Freya goes to a support group and a therapist, he doesn’t know the reasons for attending both.

He knows that her thinking won’t change overnight, but it still hurts to hear her speak so negatively about herself.

When he gives it some thought, he can see it in his head—Freya in an elegant evening gown, hair styled and made up, posing for the camera with a twinkle in her eye and a small smile.

People really would love her.

Merlin knows she has everything she needs to be brilliant at this.

But she has to decide that for herself.

Still, a little nudge couldn’t hurt, right?

“Why don’t you try it out?” he suggests, looking back and forth between Freya and Arthur. “At least meet with Ygraine and whoever else, do some of the preliminary shoot things to get a feel for it. Then, if you’re really uncomfortable, you can say no. And until you give Arthur a final answer, he can keep looking for a replacement model and keep her on standby.”

Merlin looks at his friend as he thinks the idea over, then back at Freya, who’s looking down at her lap and playing with her fingers.

“Merlin’s suggestion is okay with me,” Arthur says to Freya. “It’s not a bad plan, really. Didn’t know you had a brain up there after all, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes at his prat of a roommate before gently bumping Freya’s shoulder with his own. She peeks up at him, biting her lip nervously. He smiles back at her encouragingly, willing her to take a chance.

“So?” he whispers to her, bumping her shoulder once more.

Merlin listens as she takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out and watches as her back straightens and her shoulders relax. She meets Arthur’s gaze while grasping Merlin’s hand tightly; he can feel the slight tremble of her fingers against his own.

“If I’m not comfortable, I can back out?” Freya confirms.

“Absolutely,” Arthur responds with a firm nod.

Merlin meets Freya’s gaze for a moment before she gives Arthur her answer.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things take a very dark turn this chapter as we get into Merlin's background. Please heed the warnings and turn back now if you think you might get squicked.

 

 

-

_Chapter 4_

-

 

xxx

Powerful wings extend from a feline body as it roars into the night.

But its amber eyes glint like light catching on tears instead.

Remorse fills those eyes, but innocence and strength too.

Merlin knows the beast has done terrible things.

But he can see Freya too—fierce and strong.

xxx

 

Freya ends up sticking with the modeling gig, and Merlin can see that it’s exactly what she needed.  
  
“She’s a natural,” Arthur says simply after the first day of the photo shoot, a three-day project dependent on the limited natural sunlight of the short spring days. Freya looks surprised, and a small pleased smile chases away the hint of worry that Merlin had seen on her face. She later tells Merlin that at the shoot, Arthur was either very serious or very angry and therefore didn’t smile much at anyone and didn’t joke around the way he did at home. Merlin laughs, and explains to her that Arthur was the same way when they were in university together during final examinations, and that he got it from his father.  
  
“The fact that you weren’t intimidated by how he works says a lot about you,” Merlin goes on. “Not everyone can handle Arthur when he’s like that. And the ones who do are either like me and Morgana, who refuse to deal with him when he’s being an arse, or like Gwen, who just has to give him the look to remind him to be nice to the other human beings around him.”  
  
“But I _was_ intimidated,” Freya confesses. “I don’t like him when he’s like that, and he scares me a little bit when he yells at people. But…but that just makes me want to try harder, I guess, because I understand that what he’s doing is important to him. I want to try and make him smile. …That sounds kind of hopeless, doesn’t it?”  
  
Merlin laughs, hugs his girlfriend, and proceeds to kiss her thoroughly before responding. “ _That_ , that desire to make the people around you happy? That is what I love about you most of all.”  
  
He kisses her one more time, before suggesting that they get dinner.  
  
Two days later, the shoot is done, Arthur and Freya come home (huh, when did Freya coming to the flat come to mean Freya coming home? Merlin likes the thought of it, though), and this time, Arthur is much more animated in his praise.  
  
“Merlin, your girlfriend is amazing, and my mum wants her to be one of our regular models. Wants to make her a spokesmodel for the design house, actually,” Arthur says to Merlin, and the grin on his face is blinding as he hugs Freya. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for coming in when we needed you, and for putting up with me. And if I was harsh at times, I’m sorry—I just wanted everything to be perfect.”  
  
Freya smiles up at Arthur, and though she doesn’t say anything, Merlin can see just how happy she is and how hopeful she is for her future because of this experience.  
  
Merlin can’t even think of how to thank Arthur for what he’s done for her.  
  
And thus another couple of months pass, with Freya doing more modeling for Ygraine’s design house, building her portfolio through other jobs thanks to Arthur’s connections. Merlin notices that the more Freya works in the field, the more she seems to settle into her own skin and come alive from within. Freya’s growing confidence and openness with them and others makes Merlin smile.  
  
Merlin realizes that Freya truly has come into her own the day she tells him that she wants to introduce him to a new friend of hers, a young woman named Mithian who was her photographer at her last photo shoot.  
  
So it’s an ordinary Tuesday night when Merlin’s monsters unexpectedly rear their ugly heads.  
  
He, Freya, and Arthur are sitting and waiting for Gwen and Morgana to come home from work, chatting idly about the evening’s dinner plans and surfing channels when Merlin’s phone rings.  
  
Digging it out of his pocket, Merlin sees _Mum_ on the display.  
  
“Hi mum. What’s up?”  
  
There’s a pause on the other end, and she takes a shaky breath, before Merlin hears his mother’s voice. “Sweetheart, turn on the news.”  
  
“Mum?” Merlin’s pulse goes up a tick. Why does his mother sound so distressed?  
  
“Turn on the news Merlin. Please.”  
  
Merlin gestures for Arthur to toss him the remote just as he hears the jangle of keys in the door, meaning the girls are home from work. Once he’s got the remote, he flips the channel.  
  
“—have been in police custody for the last several days, based on a recent victim’s accusations. The ensuing investigation has revealed photographic evidence linking them to the victim, as well as more than 40 possibly unreported cases—“  
  
Merlin stares at the pictures of two men’s mug shots—one lean-muscled with short dark hair and a tall stature and the other with graying hair, wide eyes, and a distinctly hook-like nose. The screen shows footage from two days ago of the two men being escorted into police cars outside a grocer’s shop just two blocks from the flat where Merlin and his mum used to live.  
  
“—Police are asking any former victims to come forward—“  
  
Merlin remembers that shop very well, the backroom especially. He’s old enough now to know that a lot of what he saw in that room shouldn’t have been in a grocer’s backroom.  
  
But what’s making him feel sick right now are two phrases the reporter said that are on loop in his brain.  
  
 _Photographic evidence._  
  
 _Over 40 cases._  
  
He’s ten again, with a list of things to pick up for him and his mum and only a limited amount of cash. And Jarl the grocer says Merlin doesn’t have enough money for everything, but that’s okay. If Merlin can help Jarl with something in the backroom, they can call it even.  
  
That’s how it started, Merlin doing chores in the backroom, being helpful to Jarl to pay for the food and other things they needed. There were a few times Jarl, and sometimes his business partner Kanen, got too close to Merlin. The hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, and he’d find one of them standing right behind him, or sometimes he’d look up and one of them would be watching him with an odd look.  
  
The favors got stranger. Could Merlin try on a shirt Kanen had brought for his nephew? They were about the same size, and he wanted to make sure it would fit. No need to be shy about anyone seeing; it was the backroom after all, and just Kanen and Jarl. Nothing to worry about. And the security cameras were there to keep Merlin and Jarl and Kanen safe. They would know if someone came to the shop.  
  
And then—  
  
Merlin’s nerveless fingers drop his phone as the most horrid memory washes over him, the phantom sensation of hands on his body making him tremble and making his stomach roll with nausea, while in his head it's his eleventh birthday and saying no, thank you for the candy but then taking it at their insistence, and feeling sleepy after eating some and feebly saying no, please don’t, please don’t, stopstop _stop_ —  
  
His hand clamps over his mouth and he barely makes it to the toilet before he’s on his knees and emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Wiping his mouth and resting his head against the cool porcelain, Merlin succumbs to ragged sobbing.  
  
He feels like he’s been violated again.  
  
All because of five stupid fucking words.  
  
He knows where that photographic evidence came from—the blinking red lights like demons’ eyes strategically placed around the back room, always watching him from the shadows.  
  
Merlin’s world, which had been carefully rebuilt after the betrayal and pain of that first time and the few times after and the near self-destruction Cenred fueled because of how helpless he had felt and how much he hated himself for doing nothing to stop Jarl and Kanen, feels like it’s falling apart.  
  
The dreaded warnings ring in his mind. _You don’t want to be taken away from your mum, do you? We know she’s not home much, trying to make enough to take care of you. You don’t want to make her worry about you, do you? A good boy like you? And oh, you are good, aren’t you? Oh yes, very good._  
  
He screams and punches the tile of the bathroom wall once, twice, three times before finally just curling into a ball and continuing to cry.  
  
It feels like his soul hurts, and he wants nothing more than to fly into an oblivious bliss. He doesn’t want to think about them, about what he saw and heard today.  
  
 _Photographic evidence._  
  
 _Over 40 cases._  
  
He thought he was alone that whole time. But now, he’s a number in a long, long list. There are pictures or videos or some sort of image that he’s in, and someone has seen them. Possibly recognized him.  
  
Merlin retches into the toilet again before curling back into himself in the opposite corner by the front of the bathtub.  
  
The guilt for saying nothing eats at him again, whispering of his weakness and his lack of courage.  
  
The familiar, physical craving for the drugs that nearly killed him pulls at his insides, his mind.  
  
Merlin clutches and pulls at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate need to block out the world. He wants to disappear and forget the hurt and everything else.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
His name is whispered softly with worry and love and care. He opens his eyes at the sound to see Freya kneeling in front of him.  
  
She’s looking at him with a knowing look in her eye, and he can see her hands are white-knuckled fists in her lap in an effort to keep from touching him right now if he doesn’t want it.  
  
Merlin can tell that Freya has put many of the pieces together.  
  
“I can’t think of anything to say that would help,” she says, her tone pained, and her expressive eyes somber.  
  
Merlin reaches shakily for her hands, suddenly desperate to not be alone and feel so lost. Freya laces her fingers through his, squeezing his hands tightly in the space between them, and the feeling of her hands in his calms him a little bit, makes him feel a little more grounded. She smiles at him, her empathy and care seeping into him in spite of the sadness.  
  
Merlin swallows audibly, the sound of his ragged breaths echoing loudly in his ears, as he takes comfort from Freya’s quiet strength. He concentrates on the feel of her hands, the sound of her calm and quiet breathing, the sting of the broken skin on his knuckles from punching the tile, and the building ache in his back and his legs from the cramped position in which he’s been sitting.  
  
Freya’s calm has brought Merlin some peace back. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the bathroom, but he’s thankful that he isn’t alone.  
  
“Thank you,” he croaks out, “for coming in here and staying with me.”  
  
Freya just shakes her head at him. “You’d do the same for me.”  
  
Merlin sighs shakily, before reaching over to flush the toilet and slowly climbing to his feet, his legs badly trembling. He feels physically spent and emotionally wrung out. Merlin quickly wipes at his face and eyes as more tears sting them and drip down his cheeks.  
  
“I need to call my mum,” he says, moving over to the sink and turning on the faucet. “Let her know I’m…well. Can’t say I’m okay. That’d be a lie. But at least I know now.” He stares at the gushing stream of water for a moment before cupping some in his palms and splashing his face, repeating the motions a few times.  
  
When he looks up into the mirror, the haunted blue eyes of his reflection stare back at him.  
  
“They’re asking for past victims to come forward,” Freya says from behind him.  
  
Merlin looks at her reflection in the mirror, watches her cross her arms over her chest as she leans back against the wall. Her eyes meet his in the mirror.  
  
“You’re very calm about all this,” is his response, deflecting her silent question as he leans his weight on the sink.  
  
“Certain things make a lot more sense now,” she says.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Merlin whispers, and ducks his head. God, she must hate him, considering she told him her own secrets not too long ago.  
  
“No Merlin, I’m not mad at you, not really,” Freya quickly clarifies. “I’m angry that the reason you knew how to help me was because you’ve been through this before. I’m angry that seeing their faces is still enough to hurt you now. I’m angry that you’re hurting again, and I’m worried because…well, what if I’m in a similar situation to yours, and I see my ex-guardian or Haelig again?  
  
“But in a way, I’m lucky, because I got justice for what happened to me, even though it left me stranded and alone. From what I can tell, you didn’t.”  
  
Merlin is quiet for a long time, simply processing Freya’s words, staring blankly into the bowl of the sink. Finally, he turns around to look at her face-to-face. He’s not expecting what comes out of his mouth, because his mind is numb and his heart feels broken, but Freya, solid and strong and fierce like the winged cat from his dreams, is there with him right now while his demons have come out to play.  
  
He wants to believe that someone else can protect him for a change, even though he logically knows that’s absurd.  
  
But Freya’s mere presence is enough to make him feel some semblance of strength again, so maybe he really shouldn’t be surprised when he starts to tell her who Kanen and Jarl were, and what they did to him, how they manipulated him into staying quiet, and how he nearly killed himself with a drug addiction because of what they did to him.  
  
“The hard part about all this,” he explains quietly while lying on the floor again, this time with his head pillowed in Freya’s lap as she runs her fingers through his hair, “is the pictures, and the other cases. I thought I was alone, Freya, the only one that they hurt. I…I didn’t say anything, because I thought they’d find a way to take me away from my mother or hurt her or worse. And then today…to find out that there are others, and that there’s evidence…evidence that someone else has _seen_.” He shudders violently at the thought. “I keep thinking that a lot of those other cases are my fault because I didn’t say anything. I keep thinking things wouldn’t be as bad as they are if…if I’d just… _fought_.”  
  
Merlin closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Freya’s fingers through his hair, relishing in the quiet.  
  
“You’re letting them win,” Freya finally says, and her voice sounds broken to Merlin.  
  
Turning on to his back so that he can look up at her more comfortably, Merlin meets Freya’s gaze with his own.  
  
“You’re letting them win when you finally have a chance to fight,” she elaborates, looking down at him. “I can’t tell you to come forward, Merlin. That’s a choice you have to make. But…you finally have a chance to fight them. To get justice for yourself. To help others come forward and get justice for themselves.”  
  
Merlin is silent for a long time, simply staring up at her, and drinking in her fervor.  
  
“I’m scared,” he confesses finally, his voice trembling, “to face them after so long.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Freya says, and the smile on her face is gentle and warm. “We’ll all stand with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”  
  
She takes his hand in hers and brings it to her lips for a quick kiss before holding it tightly and resting their joined hands on his chest.  
  
“You’ve been teaching me how to fight my monsters, after all.”  
  
Merlin smiles faintly up at Freya, and takes comfort in the fact that she’s still here with him even after hearing his sordid history. He squeezes her hand, before letting go and shakily getting to his feet again, and facing the door to the bathroom.  
  
He feels exhausted, but he knows he has to go back out there.  
  
He has to face Arthur and the girls.  
  
Merlin doesn’t know if he’s got it in him to let them see the scars he carries on himself and in his heart.  
  
But he can’t hide forever, can he?  
  
“Stay with me tonight,” Merlin asks Freya. “Please?”  
  
Her weight against him is warm and solid. “Whatever you need.”  
  
Merlin opens the door slowly and walks out into the living room, Freya’s hand held tightly in his. He finds Morgana sitting on the end of the sofa, staring out the window, her face blank. Gwen is curled up next to Arthur on the other end of the sofa, her eyes puffy and nose red from crying.  
  
More than anything, though, it’s Arthur’s stony expression that gets to Merlin. His blue eyes are smoldering in restrained anger, his lips are pressed into a thin line, and the grip he has on the armrest of the couch is so hard his knuckles are white.  
  
“Um, hey,” he says quietly, his grip on Freya’s hand probably bordering on painful as he brings their attention back to the room. Morgana looks at him, her electric green eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears, as she stands up from her place and comes over to him.  
  
She doesn’t say anything for a minute, just studying him with this look of sad acceptance, before finally she says, “I’m sorry.”  
  
Merlin swallows, and glances away from her, unable to bear the pain in her gaze. He nods his thanks and feels Morgana gently ruffle his hair as she always does when she’s bugging him before pulling him into a hug.  
  
Morgana gives some of the best hugs that Merlin has ever experienced, and he can’t help but relax a little in her embrace.  
  
But he keeps a hold of Freya’s hand in his own, desperate to keep her near him.  
  
“You need anything, you come tell me, okay?” she whispers in his ear, her voice brooking no argument, and he nods into her shoulder before she lets him go.  
  
Gwen is next to come over, and she’s a sobbing mess again. She doesn’t even say anything before she hugs him tightly, and leaves a damp patch on his shirt in the process. Merlin would comfort her if he could, but the truth is, he doesn’t have the emotional energy to reassure her of anything right now.  
  
So Merlin asks Gwen for something else instead. “Please stop crying. You’ll scare Arthur away, and he already looks like he’s ready to have a conniption or something.”  
  
Gwen laughs, and it brings a slight smile to Merlin’s face as she steps back and wipes her eyes with her hands before looking at him seriously again.  
  
“You’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do, right?” The smile leaves Merlin’s face, and he looks away.  
  
“Just…keep smiling for me. Please,” he requests, because seeing Gwen happy always makes him feel better, and he could really use her smiles right now.  
  
Gwen nods and smiles while wiping more tears away before excusing herself from the room to go talk to Morgana.  
  
Finally, it’s just Merlin, Freya, and Arthur.  
  
Merlin irrationally feels like he needs to tell Arthur everything, like he owes it to him. Arthur is his best friend, Arthur was around on nights during uni when Merlin was craving thanks to his stress levels being through the roof, Arthur kept him company on some of those nights when he couldn’t sleep because of bad dreams or racing thoughts. Those nights were some of the best, though.  
  
They were nights spent being idiots online and going to grab food at 2 AM from the sketchy little Asian places near the uni campus and procrastinating over projects and assignments and moaning and groaning about them together and talking about their possible futures and Arthur’s issues with his dad and Merlin’s transition from living with his mum to living with his great-uncle Gaius and how they both loved their mums like nothing else in the world.  
  
They didn’t start that way—and it always makes Merlin laugh when he thinks of how they started—but Merlin loves how far he and Arthur have come, and how close they are.  
  
And he hopes to God that Arthur will forgive him for keeping his secrets when Arthur shared so many of his own fears and troubles and insecurities, being the only son of two divorced and very well-known people.  
  
Merlin stares at his friend, his heart hammering in his chest, his hand clutching Freya’s desperately in an effort to stay grounded. He opens his mouth, closes it again, trying to find the right words.  
  
“Arthur, I—“ _Please don’t think I’m weak. Please don’t hate me for keeping silent._  
  
He never even has a chance to finish before he’s pulled into a firm hug.  
  
“Shut up, you idiot. You don’t need to apologize to me,” Arthur says to him, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d be a right arse if I expected you to tell me about all that.”  
  
“Well, you’re a right arse anyway,” Merlin says with a weak chuckle, falling into their usual rhythm with ease.  
  
“Remember who’s hugging you right now, dollop head,” Arthur responds back, arms still wrapped tight around Merlin.  
  
“ _My word,_ ” Merlin mutters, his throat starting to choke up as his vision blurs again with tears, this time in thankful relief for the normalcy Arthur gives him.  
  
“Suits you perfectly,” Arthur says, and Merlin buries his head in Arthur’s shoulder, trying to draw energy and strength from his solid frame.  
  
Merlin registers Freya squeezing the hand he’s still clutching, a silent question asking if he’s all right.  
  
Merlin squeezes her hand back tightly.  
  
He’s not all right. He won’t be for awhile.  
  
But he will be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, sorry for how late this is everyone!
> 
> To those of you who've been commenting and giving kudos, thank you so much. And those of you who are new to the story, I hope you like what you're reading.
> 
> Anyway, if anyone has been thinking, "I WANT MERLIN'S BACKGROUND ALREADY!" this is the chapter. It was, by far, the most difficult to write, because I was running with the concept of Merlin going to battle against his foes while also presenting his emotional upheaval because of the things that have happened to him in this life. But hopefully, if I did it right, you can see medieval!Merlin in presentday!Merlin as you read this. Quick warning though: you may want tissues-lots and lots of tissues.
> 
> BEWARE THE RATING AND THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. What you are about to read is not at all comfortable.
> 
> Also, I know nothing of how the UK court system works, so I've taken creative liberties. Please excuse any mistakes!
> 
> As always, much love to my fantastic betas, **CaptainOzone** and **ExcaliburMaiden** -they are seriously the best ever.
> 
> Enjoy!

-

_Chapter 5_

-

 

xxx

He stares at the trickling water in wonder.

Freya stares up at him with a smile, eyes bright and determined.

Bobbing on a familiar lake, he sits and waits, fledgling hope in his heart.

The water breaks as her hand presents him a gleaming sword.

Even in death, Freya's love gives him the will to fight.

xxx

 

Merlin swallows thickly, his stomach twisting in nervous anxiety, as he tightly grasps the wooden railing of the witness box. His eyes flit nervously around the room, occasionally landing on Kanen and Jarl, sitting next to each other by their lawyers at the table designated for the defense.

He can feel the weight of their eyes on him, and to hide the tremble running through his body, he grips the banister until his knuckles are white.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's gaze snaps to the prosecutor, a kind giant of a man named Percy. Merlin has gone over his testimony with him multiple times, so mentally, he knows what to expect.

He'll ask some questions to establish who he is, what he's been doing for the last few years, how he knows the defendants, and what they did to him.

That's going to be the hardest part.

Merlin closes his eyes and takes a couple deep, calming breaths. He has to do this.

For the ones he left to suffer.

For the boy he saw with his father in the antechamber to the courtroom. He looked terrified and so small for his age, all dark hair and blue eyes and skinny frame.

So much like himself.

Merlin swallows audibly once more.

"Merlin?" Percy asks again.

The large man's controlled confidence washes over Merlin. He focuses on Percy, who stands near the banister of the witness box, while trying his best not to think of the eyes he can feel on him.

"Sorry. Hello," he answers.

"Hello, Merlin." Percy smiles at him encouragingly. "Merlin, can you tell us a little about yourself?"

Merlin licks his dry lips, and nods. "Sure. I'm a doctoral candidate in History. I'm working on my dissertation while I work under one of the professors as a teaching assistant."

"That's impressive. What is your dissertation about?"

Merlin can't help but smile. He loves talking about his work. "I'm researching the occult—things like religious rituals and mythical beasts—and its influence on the culture of pre-medieval and medieval England."

"That sounds very interesting. Seems like you've achieved a lot for someone your age."

Merlin grins bashfully, ducking his head. "Oh, I don't know about that. But I do love my work."

"I'm glad to hear it." Percy smiles at him again, and Merlin bites his lip because he knows which questions are coming next.

"Merlin, I want to take you back now to when you were much, much younger. Tell us a little about where you grew up."

Merlin takes a deep breath and looks out into the audience, catching Freya and Arthur's gazes. Arthur looks back at him, blue eyes steely and determined. Freya gives him a small smile and mouths "It's all right" while discreetly holding up a pair of crossed fingers.

"I grew up with my mum. My dad died before I was born, so I never knew him, though I've seen pictures and my mum says I'm like him. Um…we lived in one of the poorer parts of town, so it wasn't the safest place to grow up. Mum…mum worked really hard, but always made time to spend with me. She used to take me on her errands with her when I was really little."

"Merlin, can you tell us how you know the defendants?" Percy prompts him.

"Jarl ran the grocery. His shop was a block away from our flat. We went there every week," Merlin says. "Kanen was his business partner, though I didn't really understand that at the time—I just knew him as Jarl's friend. But he was around the shop a lot too. I always saw them when I went for the shopping with mum, and when she decided I was old enough, I began get some things on my own because the store was so close to where we lived and because we knew— _thought_ —we thought we knew them well enough to keep me out of mischief."

Percy grins at him with a raised eyebrow. "Were you a troublemaker Merlin?"

Merlin shakes his head with a light chuckle. "A little bit, yeah, but no more than most kids. I had a habit of wandering off without warning her to look at something that caught my attention." He smiles a bit at the titters from the audience. "I also liked climbing up the fire escape when she played hide and seek with me. That always earned me a bit of a tongue-lashing, but I kept doing it because it was fun." That earns him a few all out laughs.

As the room comes back to order, Merlin's fingers tense around the banister again as he gets closer to talking about the crime in question.

"And how old were you when she decided that?" Percy asks him, his voice neutral.

"I'd just turned ten. She would leave the house key with old Mr. Kilgour next door for me to pick up after school, when I finished afternoon activities. By the time I would come home to get the key and the list, it was usually around half-four. I'd get the key from Mr. Kilgour, drop off my satchel in our flat, and grab the money and the list from the kitchen counter. I usually went around Wednesday or Thursday."

Merlin smiles at the thought of the old Scottish man next door with the heavy accent, who was always disgruntled at Merlin for interrupting his day but nice enough to give him and his mum a tin of biscuits at Christmas each year until they moved.

"Remember something nice?" Percy interrupts his thoughts, not unkindly.

Merlin shakes his head with a smaller smile. "Just remembering Mr. Kilgour. He didn't look after me in the afternoons or anything, but he always gave us biscuits at Christmastime each year. He had this picture of a pretty blond-haired girl in his flat that I think was his daughter, and I think he was fond of my mum because she reminded him of her."

Percy nods. "All right then. Merlin, can you tell us what happened in March the year you turned 10?"

Merlin swallows, his mouth dry as his nerves come back with a vengeance. He fights to control his breathing and focuses on Freya's face, his gaze boring into her own brown eyes. She bites her lip, showing her concern for him, before giving him a small smile and mouthing, "It's okay. You can do it."

"Jarlaskedmeforafavor," Merlin mumbles aloud.

"Could you repeat that please?" Percy asks him.

Merlin clears his throat. "Sorry. Jarl…asked me for a favor. Because he said I didn't have enough money to buy what was on my list."

"What did he ask you to do?"

Merlin shrugs and looks down at his hands, his fingers now toying with each other in his lap. "Just help him move some stuff around in his backroom. Said if I could help him he'd call it even."

Merlin glances up and sees Jarl staring at him with his wide-set eyes. He sneers at Merlin, and it's like Merlin can hear his voice in his head even though Jarl isn't saying anything aloud right now. _You are good, aren't you?_

Percy asks him something that he misses, and Merlin focuses on the sound to tear his gaze away from Jarl. "Sorry, can you repeat the question?"

"Was that the only time Jarl asked you for a favor?"

"No."

"When did he ask you again?"

Merlin swallows and stares out into the crowd, unable to settle his gaze on anything, before looking back at Percy. "It seemed like every other time I went in, I didn't have enough money. So Jarl would ask me for a favor."

"Could you give us an average?"

Merlin frowns in thought. "Something like two to three times a month."

Percy nods. "I see. What did he have you do for him?"

Merlin chews his lip for a moment before answering. "He'd…have me move boxes, mostly."

"Mostly?"

Merlin fights the urge to squirm in his seat. "There were a few…a few favors that aren't normal by any standard, but I didn't know better at the time."

Percy nods. "Okay, we'll come back to that. Was there anything else that he had you do?"

Merlin relaxes slightly. "A few times he asked me grab some bottled liquid solution for Kanen. Kanen had a darkroom in a small office back there, but I was never allowed inside. I didn't know it was a darkroom until I got older, though, and learned that the light is red in rooms like that."

"Did you notice anything else odd about the backroom?"

Merlin's knuckles are white as he laces his fingers in his lap. "There were cameras everywhere. And a—and a mattress. Th-that was usually behind a curtain, but a few times I found Jarl napping on it while Kanen took over the counter."

Merlin's stomach is clenching in nausea again, and his breathing is quickening.

"What about being back there, Merlin? Did you like helping them?"

Merlin closes his eyes, trying to block out the room and the trembling in his hands.

He needs to focus only on Percy's questions.

He has to get through this.

"Sometimes Jarl…Jarl would invade my personal space. I would be bending down to pick something up, and I would feel someone come up behind me. This close." Merlin uses his thumb and index finger to demonstrate the lack of distance. "And I'd look up and there he'd be. Sometimes I caught them looking at me...funny. I didn't get it at the time, didn't understand what the looks meant. I was still young. But I remember feeling uncomfortable because of the way they were looking at me. Like…like I was a…piece of meat. They looked…they looked hungry."

Merlin shudders as he forces himself to stop beating around the bush, to say outright what the looks were. "They looked at me with lust."

Percy nods again. "Okay. Merlin, let's go back to something you said before. You said you were sometimes asked to do favors that you didn't know better about not doing. Who asked you to perform those?"

"Both of them. Mostly Kanen."

"Can you tell us about some of them?"

Merlin wraps his arms around himself. "They asked me to try on clothes. Kanen told me that I was close to his nephew's size, and he wanted to see if the clothes he bought for him would fit."

"You can't deny the logic behind it," Percy says.

Merlin snorts derisively. "I agree. But most people would also point to a closet or closed-off private area of some sort and say, 'you can try it on back there.'"

"So are you saying that they didn't say that to you?"

Merlin shakes his head. "Yes. Um, I-I mean no. No. They didn't."

"You mentioned that there was an area with a curtain. Did they say that you could use that area?"

"No."

"Did they at least turn around? If there's no space, the decent thing to do would be to turn their back to give you a semblance of privacy."

Merlin feels his cheeks flushing at the memories, and he can see Kanen staring at him unrepentantly from the corner of his eye. "No. They didn't do that either. They…they said I knew them, that it was just them, so it was okay. And the cameras were there to make sure we stayed safe and that everything was fine."

"I just want to make this clear. You're saying that they asked you, as a ten-year-old child, to change clothes in their presence with no provision of a private space to do so. Correct?" Merlin can see that this still makes Percy upset, even though he's heard Merlin's testimony prior to today.

Merlin nods. "Yes."

"Can you tell us how many times they asked favors like this from you?"

Merlin hugs himself tighter and swallows the dryness in his mouth. "Three or four times, until my eleventh birthday—"

His breathing is coming short and quick now at the assault of the memories, and dammit, why is he reacting like this still?

After so many years, after getting clean and going through therapy and talking with professionals, why is he still unable to talk about all this without having some sort of a break down?

Because he can't do that here.

He can't fall apart on the stand like this.

Merlin remembers the little boy outside, his large blue eyes frightened as he held on to his father's hand like it was a lifeline.

He has to get through this for him.

He has to, but—but maybe—

"Can I get some water? Please?"

Merlin vaguely hears the judge call a thirty-minute recess to the hearing. Percy helps him come down from the stand, and he is ushered into the antechamber where the boy and his father are.

Merlin collapses on to a bench and is soon joined by Arthur sitting on one side of him, and Freya hugging him from the other.

Merlin clings to Freya for a few minutes, burying his face in her neck and trying to calm down the tremors wracking his whole body. He inhales the scent of her favorite perfume—lavender and chamomile—and feels himself start to relax as he registers Arthur's hand gently gripping his shoulder.

"Better?" Freya whispers when he's finally calm enough to let go of her and sit up. Merlin nods but doesn't say anything.

He closes his eyes, just taking in the sensations around him—Freya tightly holding his hand, Arthur gently bumping his shoulder, the feel of hard wood paneling against his back, and the sound of squeaking shoes on a very polished floor.

"I'm happy my mother isn't here to see this," he finally confesses with a sigh. "I couldn't put her through it, and I don't know if I could handle watching her reaction."

When he opens his eyes, he looks down to see Freya resting her head on his left shoulder. When he looks to his other side, Arthur is leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed.

He's about to make a comment about Arthur looking more emotionally drained than he does when he hears the squeaking shoes again. Looking in the direction of the sound, Merlin sees the boy staring at him.

He's stepped away from his father and Percy, who are most likely discussing the proceedings so far. He's hugging himself, his small hands tucked under opposite arms, and swimming in an ill-fitting but very comfortable looking jumper. His large eyes are ice blue in the dull daylight streaming through the window and filled with a mix of fear and longing and, oddly, hope.

Merlin wants to say something to the boy, wants to know his name, wants to tell him how sorry he is that he didn't fight before now.

Because the boy looking at him that way is his fault.

But he can't say anything to the boy right now, and he has to be careful of what he does say because he can't influence the boy's testimony.

"Merlin, are you ready? It's time to go back in," Percy says as he comes to stand on Arthur's other side, tearing Merlin's attention away from the boy and his musings.

Merlin stands up and digs his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

He'll never be ready for this, if he's being honest.

But this is his only chance to do this, to fight.

For what the boy lost.

For what _he_ lost.

For what's right.

Merlin looks back at the boy once more and gives him a small smile.

_I'll fight for you and me_. _You aren't alone_.

The boy gives him a tiny smile back.

Merlin nods at Percy. "Yeah, let's go."

Just before Merlin and Percy split from Freya and Arthur, Freya grabs Merlin's arm. "Wait a sec."

When Merlin looks back toward her, Freya pulls him toward her by the lapel of his jacket.

"When you're up there," she whispers to him, her brown eyes locked on his, her hands fisted in his shirt, "and you're scared and struggling, remember this."

The kiss she presses to his lips is long, lingering, soft, and deep.

When they break apart, Freya rests her forehead against his.

"I'm right here with you. We all are."

Merlin nods and presses a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he breathes.

"I love you," she says, eyes bright and determined.

"I love you too," Merlin confirms. He kisses her briefly once more before pulling away to head back into the courtroom behind Percy.

As he waits for the judge's return, he closes his eyes, ignoring the hum of whispering people and shuffling feet around him. Instead, he pictures Freya as she was when he met her what feels like a lifetime ago, and then again as she is now—a strong, confident, vibrant young woman.

She could have anyone in the world, and she's staying with him.

If Freya could go into the witness box and reveal the sordid details of what happened to her, so could he.

And Merlin knows he will because he's not just doing it for himself.

There is a scared little boy who suffered because he wasn't strong enough to fight before now.

He opens his eyes when he hears the judge declaring the court back in session.

"Will the witness please return to the stand?"

Glancing back at Freya and Arthur in the audience, Merlin turns back to the judge. "Yes, Your Honor."

Merlin smiles at Percy, who nods back with a small smile of his own, before taking his seat in the box again.

He's still nervous, but he's much better than where he was half an hour ago. He takes Freya's advice and thinks of the last few minutes they had before coming back into the courtroom.

_I love you._

"Merlin, you mentioned that the defendants asked you for favors until your eleventh birthday. Can you tell us what happened that day?"

Merlin twiddles his thumbs in silence for a moment.

_I love you_.

He thinks of the boy sitting with his father in the other room, swallowed up by his jumper because the extra room in the garment makes him feel safe.

Merlin knows that feeling—to have no safety from the horrors of the world outside his doors.

Merlin took a more desperate approach to hide from it and almost killed himself in the process.

_I love you._

Merlin looks out into the audience and finds Freya. She's holding Arthur's hand and is staring right back at him.

He thinks of the night she told him her story, in the peaceful quiet of his room after an evening spent together.

He's told this story before, several years ago in therapy sessions.

He's told _her_ this story before, just a couple months ago, huddled on the bathroom floor in his flat.

But it's terrifying to tell it again when Jarl and Kanen are _right there_ , and he can feel their eyes and can remember their hands and their _words—_

_I love you._

"They gave me candy," he gasps out, his breath shuddering in his chest. "I said…I said 'No, thank you.' But Kanen insisted, said it's what he gave his nephew for his birthday every year. Jarl said it was something special that he didn't get to sell in his store.

"And I…I was eleven. I liked candy a lot, especially since mum didn't buy it all the time. I thought they'd taken a lot of trouble to get me something I couldn't usually buy. So I took it, and ate some in the shop—"

He bites his lip, before finishing. "I didn't know that it was drugged."

Merlin's vision is blurring with tears, and he blinks rapidly to disperse them, to keep his vision clear and to keep Freya in his sight.

"I…I felt really sleepy after eating the candy. I remember, it was a bag of fruit-flavored gummies, shaped like different pieces of fruit. I must have blacked out because when I woke up, I was in…I was in the b-backroom. I was…I was lying on…lying on the m-mattre-ess…I t-told them to s-s-stop, that i-it _h-hurt—_ "

Percy nods. "Merlin, I want to show you a photograph. Is that okay?"

Merlin nods, taking the blessing in disguise to wipe his tears and recompose himself, still keeping his eyes on Freya. There are tears dripping down her cheeks, but her eyes are proud, and she's smiling slightly at him. He's only half paying attention to the piece of evidence Percy is describing for the court's benefit, only knowing that it's most likely a photo of himself on that horrible day.

_I love you_.

He clings to those words like a comfort blanket.

"Merlin," Percy says to him, bringing him back to the present, "can you please identify who is in this picture?"

He doesn't want to look.

He really, _really_ doesn't.

But there is a little boy who needs him to do this, so that Kanen and Jarl can go away and finally, finally _leave them alone_.

Merlin points shakily to the boy in the photo, his body twisted at an odd angle and his face screwed up in pain.

"That's m-me," he says.

He then points to the man kneeling near the boy's head, a hand on the boy's chest. The hooked nose is clearly visible. "Jarl."

Merlin points finally to the man dwarfing most of the lower half of the boy's body with a view of his muscular back. "K-Kanen," he gasps and falls silent as Percy turns away from him to address the court.

"Let it be clear to the court that in this photograph the witness has identified himself as the victim and the defendants as the perpetrators," Percy declares, his voice echoing to the hollow corners of the courtroom. "This is but one of many of its kind, and I would like Your Honor's permission to submit the rest as evidence as well." The judge grants Percy's request, and Percy hands the judge a short stack of manila envelopes before he turns back to Merlin.

"Merlin, I only have a couple more questions for you. Did they ever assault you again?"

Merlin nods jerkily. "Y-Yes, three or four more times, u-until we moved. They…they told me not to tell my mother. They threatened to find a way to take me away from her, because she struggled to take care of me. She…she wasn't home a lot so she didn't really know anything was wrong. It wasn't her fault, though. She…she was trying to take care of me. She was working two or three jobs because of me. So…so I kept quiet."

He wipes at his eyes again. "I-I didn't w-want h-her to worry about m-me."

Percy nods. "Thank you, Merlin. No further questions."

The judge nods. "Cross-examination?"

"Thank you, Your Honor," the prosecuting lawyer says as he stands up. He's a weedy-looking man, with large brown eyes and scraggly hair and an odd mustache.

He reminds Merlin of a slick patch of oil and immediately sets Merlin on edge.

"So Merlin. Can I call you Merlin?" he says, sidling up to the stand.

Merlin wipes at his face again to rid of the last of his tears and narrows his eyes at the lawyer. "I'd prefer _you_ didn't."

"All right, Mr _Ambrose_ then. Is that acceptable, _Mr Ambrose_?"

Merlin wants to slap the sneering grin off his face, but he settles for glaring instead.

"You have questions for me, and I am exhausted at this point. So please get on with it."

"Straight to the point. I like that in people. Tell me, Mr Ambrose, is it true that you were a drug-user in your adolescence?"

Merlin feels his cheeks flush, but he doesn't take his eyes off the lawyer. "I have nothing to hide. Yes, I used drugs when I was a teenager."

"When did you start?"

"I was fourteen."

"Huh. Two years _after_ your alleged assault? Why then?"

Merlin glares at the man in front of him, feeling anger heat his blood. "Because I was silenced by the manipulation of your clients, I was traumatized by what they did to me, and I had no one to turn to for help. After two years of self-hate and shame, the drugs were an outlet, a reprieve from my own head. But you know, we can take this a little further, if you'd like."

Merlin is on a roll and is very happily letting the slimy lawyer have it because _damn him_ for trying to poke holes in his character and his testimony by bringing this up.

"The drugs made me _feel good_ again. Do you know what that's like? To be so hurt that you don't just hate who hurt you, but you hate _yourself_ for not being able to fight back, for not saying anything? It's enough to make you keep going back, craving for the oblivion the drugs give you. My hurt and need for peace was enough to make me take so much one day that I nearly died and that I wished I _had_ died when I woke up."

The lawyer hasn't managed to say anything since Merlin began ranting, and while he's been talking, Merlin has been digging in his pocket. As he finishes his tirade, Merlin pulls out a round medallion and holds it up for the defense attorney and all of the court to see.

"It took an immense amount of strength and love on my mother's part to accept what happened to me and what I'd been reduced to, and it took even more for her to decide to send me to live with a relative instead. My great-uncle didn't have to take me in, but he did, and he got me the help I needed to get my life back. Because of that support, and later, the support and love I got from the friends I made in college," Merlin pauses to meet Arthur's eyes in the audience, who proudly raises his chin in acknowledgment, "I have been able to build my life into something wonderful and something that I cherish." Merlin meets Freya's eyes briefly with a small smile before turning back to the lawyer in front of him and waving the medallion in his face again.

"I've been clean for nine years, I've worked hard to stay that way, and I'll be _damned_ if I let you use my weakness to discredit me."

Merlin falls silent, but he continues to glare at the oily defense attorney in front of him. He can't help but feel a little vindicated at the cowed expression on the man's face.

He finally sighs with a frown and mutters, "No further questions."

The judge nods and turns to Merlin. "Thank you, Mr Ambrose. You may step down."

Merlin smiles gratefully at the judge and exits the box and the courtroom, his back erect and shoulders stiff and straight. He holds it together until he's outside, and by the time Freya and Arthur reach him, he's sitting slumped on a bench, his face buried in his hands.

A part of him wants to go back, to talk to the boy and tell him everything will be all right now, but most of him just wants to go home. So he doesn't argue when Freya gently coaxes him to leave the courthouse, and he doesn't protest when she brings him to his room at home and tucks him into bed and climbs in next to him.

Instead he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her neck and inhales her scent until he falls asleep.

The days between the day of his testimony and the day of the verdict feel like waking dreams, not altogether real because he feels so turned off to everything.

He feels withdrawn and emotional and numb all at once, his memories of the multiple assaults he suffered now linked to those awful pictures of himself.

Part of him wishes he could find the photographs and burn them. Part of him prays he'll never see the pictures again.

He spends the next few days at home, not saying much of anything, with no desire to go anywhere, to see anyone, to do anything. His research and the books he's using for his dissertation sit forlornly in stacks on his desk, and his easel sits untouched and empty of a canvas. Gwen and Morgana spend a lot of time trying to get him to eat more, but he's not hungry. Arthur tries to distract him, but Merlin just isn't in the mood.

Meanwhile, Freya just lets him be. She gives him a kiss in the morning before she leaves for her day and a kiss in the evening when she comes back. If she's staying home, she sits with him, reading a book or watching telly, her fingers laced through his.

Merlin is thankful for the space she gives him.

Merlin surmises that his lack of sleep is also one of the main reasons he's so out of it, but he can't help being kept awake by the fear that somehow, in spite of his testimony, in spite of the boy testifying as well and in spite of the physical evidence that Percy has been able to admit into court, the verdict will come back favoring Kanen and Jarl. And when he sleeps, he finds himself dreaming of the past, or various futures which all feature Kanen and Jarl going free.

He wonders what they will do if they're not sentenced. Will they go after his mother in retribution? Will they hurt the boy again, or his father?

Will they come after him?

He's going on day five of his seeming half-lucidity when his mother calls him.

At first, Merlin debates not taking the phone.

He quickly nixes the idea as absurd and answers.

"Hi, Mum," he mumbles into the receiver.

"Hi, sweetheart. I'm surprised I haven't heard from you already," she says, and Merlin is glad she can't see his guilty expression over the phone.

"I…I know. I meant to call sooner," he says, hoping she'll buy it.

"Mm-hmm. I'm sure you did," she responds, and he knows that she knows he is lying through his teeth.

There is a pause between them, Merlin toying with a frayed corner of his blanket, before Hunith asks him softly, "How are you?"

He sighs shakily. He can't lie to her. "I'm…I dunno, mum." Merlin settles himself back into his favorite corner of the couch, drawing his knees to his chest under the blanket, before continuing, "I'm feeling really messed up."

And Merlin starts to talk. He tells his mother how he can't sleep and how worried he is about the verdict. He tells her about testifying and the emotional rollercoaster it was and how after it was over he just wanted to crawl into bed and hide and never come back out and how he bounces between feeling numb and wanting to cry and wanting to throw a fit and feeling relieved that his part is over and being scared that they won't win.

"Oh, my darling. I'm so proud of you for what you've done," she says finally after he's done talking. "You haven't just helped yourself, but there is a little boy out there who's got a better chance at justice thanks to you." Merlin's mother pauses, and he hears the shaky breaths and telltale sniff that indicate that she's been crying before she continues speaking again. "Merlin, I can't promise that everything will be all right, but whatever happens, I'm sure something good will come of it. But I think…I think it's time to finally put this behind you."

Merlin runs a trembling hand through his hair, swallowing hard. He knows what she's suggesting.

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do," she says, "and neither will your friends or Freya it seems. But sweetheart, you're not sleeping. It sounds like Gwen and Morgana are force-feeding you because you're not eating enough. And if I know you, you haven't left the flat in days. You had a life before this, Merlin, one you worked hard to rebuild. Why aren't you out there living it?"

His mother's words give him pause.

She's absolutely right, of course. Why _is_ he living like this? Does he really have that little faith in the boy, in Percy and the evidence and the court? In himself?

No, their hard work to bring Kanen and Jarl to justice won't go unpunished. The court can't be that cruel.

Fate can't be that cruel.

"Merlin? Are you still there?" his mother's voice brings him back to the present conversation.

"Y-Yeah, Mum, I'm still here. Just thinking about what you said," he quickly says, straightening up into a sitting position on the couch just as he hears a knock on the door. Standing, he begins to make his way over to answer it, the phone still pressed to his ear.

"And? What are you going to do?" his mother asks as he unlocks the door and swings it open to find Freya standing on the other side, examining something on her phone. When she looks up, she gives him a surprised but pleased grin, her brown eyes glowing.

"Merlin?" his mum's voice sounds in his ear, but he's still staring at Freya. A slow smile starts to spread across his face, and he feels warmth spread through him as he looks at her.

"I'm going to live my life again. And I'm going to make it better than it's ever been before now," he tells his mother distractedly, still taking Freya in, who is now giving him a raised eyebrow for keeping her standing in the hallway. His mother says something that sounds approving over the phone as he steps aside to let Freya enter, and as soon as she's through the door, he wraps his free arm around her and pulls her close to him.

"Mum, I have to go. I'll talk to you later," he says hastily, after which he promptly hangs up on his mother and turns his full attention to Freya.

"Back in your head again?" she asks him, and smiles brightly.

"Sort of," he says. "Not completely, but give me some time to get there?"

Freya wraps her arms more snugly around the back of his neck, and reaches on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. The warmth of her kiss spreads through Merlin, finally consciously registering Freya for the first time in days, and he kisses her deeply back.

When they part, Merlin rests his forehead against hers.

"Got your answer?" she asks, voice gentle.

"Mm-hmm." He kisses her again—a light peck this time.

Freya rests her head against his chest, her ear over his heart, while he closes his eyes and rests his chin on top of her head.

"I love you," he murmurs, wrapping his arms more securely around Freya and relishing in the feel of her in his arms.

"I love you too," she says back, and fists her hand in the back of his shirt.

And Merlin knows in that moment that as long as he has Freya, his friends and family, and the life he's built for himself, he'll be all right.

When he hears from Percy three days later, informing him that Kanen and Jarl were sentenced to life imprisonment, he can't help crying tears of relief.

His ordeal is over.

Merlin can finally put it all behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT EVERYONE. This is the very last installment. Thank you to all of you who've been reading from the beginning, and to all of you who came to it later. Your support is everything to me.
> 
> I give many, many thanks for my two fantastic betas- **CaptainOzone** and **ExcaliburMaiden** -for sticking with me through this rollercoaster of a story. It was a doozy to write, but so entirely worth it in the end.
> 
> Please enjoy this epilogue to wrap things up, and leave me a comment. I'd love to know your thoughts on the ending.

-

_Epilogue_

-

 

xxx

Freya's eyes glow in Merlin's dancing candlelight.

When they hold hands, Merlin never wants to let go.

There is laughter in her voice as he hands her a rose.

A tear comes to his eye when they kiss the first time.

_With you I can just be who I am._

_We don't have to hide anything._

_We don't have to worry._

xxx

 

It's been a year since the judge's verdict sentenced Jarl and Kanen to life imprisonment.

Merlin had made a conscious decision to go back to therapy in the aftermath of the trial. The whole experience had reopened old wounds, and as willing as Freya and his friends were to listen to him, he didn't have the heart to make them deal with his issues.

Still, he could never be thankful enough for Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana.

And he never thought he'd be lucky enough to love and be loved by someone like his Freya.

 _His_ Freya.

He rather likes the sound of that.

"Oh, _Doctor Ambrose_ ," Freya's sing-song voice whispers in his ear, breaking him from his musings and bringing him back to the dance floor.

"Hi," he says with a grin.

"Hello," she responds with a smile. "Where did your mind wander off to?"

"Just thinking about the last year," he explains. "So much has changed."

"Like Gwen and Arthur finally getting married?" she suggests as he spins her out, the skirt on her deep purple bridesmaid's dress flaring beautifully around her legs.

"Well, there is that of course," he chuckles as he pulls her back in towards him. "But I was thinking more along the lines of you and me."

"Well, now you're that cool young professor that all the uni kids love taking classes with," Freya says with a hint of pride.

"And you're that famous model that all the big names want in their shows and commercials and television serials," Merlin tells her, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

They fall silent again, content to be held in each other's arms, as they continue to dance.

Later, after all the festivities are over, the newly-wedded Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton have been seen off to their hotel room for their own celebration, and all the guests are nearly gone, Merlin loops his arms around his girlfriend and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"Shall we go home now?" he asks, and kisses her neck.

Freya giggles and nods. "Yes."

The taxi ride home is quiet but comfortable. Freya is nestled against Merlin's side as they watch the city lights zoom past them outside, and they share a fond smile when they pass the café where they had their first date and the bookshop where they first met.

Finally they come to their building. Merlin pays the cab fare while Freya waits for him and takes out her keys. They enter the building lobby together and board the elevator.

"Home sweet home," Freya says after she unlocks their door and dumps her keys in the bowl next to it.

Merlin hums contentedly before wrapping his arms around Freya again. "No more excitement for awhile then."

Freya laughs. "I still can't get over the look on Morgana's face when the bouquet landed in front of her on the table."

Merlin begins to laugh as well. "I know. I wonder if she'll ever find someone?"

"Morgana seems more likely to come to us and say, 'By the way, this is my husband,'" Freya muses.

"Or wife," Merlin adds. "And then we'll all gripe at her for not even telling us that she was getting married, let alone seeing someone."

Freya laughs again and leans back into Merlin's chest.

Humming quietly, Merlin begins to sway and then begins to dance them around the living room. Freya stumbles in her pumps a couple times and laughs before she finally kicks the shoes off.

"I'm surprised you didn't do that earlier," he says.

"I don't know why I didn't either. I've wanted to take them off all evening," she says and rests her ear over his heart. Merlin goes back to swaying back and forth, his eyes closed as he rests his chin on top of her head.

"I have something I want to show you," he whispers to her, and he can't help the smile that breaks across his face.

Freya looks up at him questioningly, and he grins down at her before taking her hand and leading her into the second room that he uses as a study and art studio. An easel sits in the corner with a canvas resting on it, the painting turned away to keep it hidden.

Merlin goes to the easel and turns back to Freya as he grabs the top of the painting. "Close your eyes."

Freya raises an eyebrow at him but promptly closes her eyes. "Keep them closed," he warns as he takes the painting off the stand momentarily to flip it around and lift the protective sheet that covers the painted side.

"Just a little longer," Merlin teases as he resettles the canvas on the easel, the painting finally on display.

Merlin then takes Freya's hand in his and brings her to stand just a few feet from the painting.

"Can I look now?" Freya asks him impatiently.

"Yes, yes," he eagerly responds. "Now you can look."

Merlin watches her as she takes the painting in, relishing in her wonder as she realizes what she's truly seeing.

"You…you painted… _me_ ," she gasps out in surprise.

Merlin looks at his painting of Freya, her arms outstretched and a warm smile on her face. She is dressed elegantly in flowing red silk, and her head is topped with a thin circlet of diamonds. She floats on the surface of a lake and is surrounded by mist, which blends into the background image of the winged cat from his dreams, its midnight fur and amber eyes gleaming in the moonlight, its wings majestically outstretched and head thrown back in a powerful roar.

"Oh…Merlin, I…I don't know what to say," she says, her eyes wide in amazement. Merlin watches her reach out a hand, fingers tentatively tracing the brush strokes on the dress, the panther, the water and the mists.

"Do you want to know what it's called?" he asks her, his voice hushed as he wraps his arms around her again.

Tonight's just one of those nights when he doesn't want to let her go, when he wants to keep her as close to him as possible.

"I called it 'Bastet,'" he explains in a whisper. "It's the name of an Egyptian goddess. She was once known as a goddess of war but later became known as a goddess of protection. Her patron animal was the cat." He kisses her shoulder. "You're my warrior." He kisses the back of her neck at the juncture of her spine and feels her shiver in his arms. "You're my protector."

He turns her around so that she's facing him. Gently, Merlin grasps her chin, tilting her face up so that her eyes meet his.

"You're my Freya," he whispers, "and I love you."

She kisses him soundly, a hint of the strawberries she was nibbling after dinner lingering on her lips, and he savors the mixed taste of something sweet and spicy and distinctly Freya.

When they break apart, Freya looks at him and smiles. "I love you too. And thank you."

She turns to look lingeringly back at the painting before turning back to him and kissing him once more. "You made me beautiful."

"You _are_ beautiful," Merlin says earnestly. "I've thought you were beautiful since the day we met when I knocked the books out of your hand. I couldn't speak for a second because all I could think was 'ooooh, pretty.'"

Freya laughs at his silliness. "The history student lost for words? And all because of little old me?"

Merlin grins at her. "It's true. I just got lucky because not only are you beautiful on the outside, you're beautiful on the inside too."

Freya smiles, her cheeks flushing pink at his praise.

"You told me once that I was the only one you couldn't paint," she says as she looks back at the painting again. "You said it was because I was hurt in your dreams, and you couldn't bear it. Did your dreams change?"

Merlin looks at the painting as well, thinking about the dreams he's had in recent months and trying to figure out how to explain. "Remember I said it seemed like my dreams told a story, only the parts were out of order? Well, at some point in the last year, the dreams changed. Like…people are still knights and nobles and whatnot, but it's as though the story the dreams were trying to tell is over and somehow resolved, and instead a new story is starting."

Merlin looked at Freya who was looking at him a bit disbelievingly. He shook his head. "I don't really understand it either. All I know is that when I dreamed of you last, I dreamed that you were happy, that _we_ were happy, and it felt like whatever block was keeping me from painting you was gone."

Freya smiles softly at him, and reaches up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad," she whispers, glances at the painting fondly once more, and then turns toward the door while stifling a yawn.

"I'm going to get ready for bed," she says, looking back at him. "Are you coming?"

He gives her a gentle push toward the door. "Yeah, in a minute."

She nods and leaves.

Once she's gone, Merlin goes to the case where he keeps his art supplies and opens it. Carefully, he pulls out a small wad of paint-stained rags, unraveling the rough material to reveal a small velvet box. Cracking it open delicately, Merlin examines the small, simple ring inside, gently tracing his thumb over the band. The diamond set into the white gold glitters in the light.

He smiles and gently tucks the engagement ring back into its hiding place.

 _Not much longer now_ , Merlin decides.

And then, hopefully, they can fly together into an even brighter future.

 

x

" _We have not come into this exquisite world_  
To hold ourselves hostage from love.  
Run my dear,  
From anything  
That may not strengthen  
Your precious budding wings."  
– Hafiz

x

**_fin_ **


End file.
